 so far as that.«
    »But that's just what you want - a regular change, something bracing. You
don't look at all well, that's the fact. A winter in London tries any man - it
does me, I know. I've been seedy myself these last few weeks. Edith wants me to
take her over to Paris at the end of this month, and I think it isn't a bad
idea; but I'm so confoundedly busy. In the autumn we shall go to Norway, I
think; it seems to be the right thing to do nowadays. Why shouldn't you have a
run over to Norway? They say it can be done very cheaply; the steamers take you
for next to nothing.«
    He talked on with the joyous satisfaction of a man whose income is assured,
and whose future teems with a succession of lively holidays. Reardon could make
no answer to such suggestions; he sat with a fixed smile on his face.
    »Have you heard,« said Carter, presently, »that we're opening a branch of
the hospital in the City Road?«
    »No; I hadn't heard of it.«
    »It'll only be for out-patients. Open three mornings and three evenings
alternately.«
    »Who'll represent you there?«
    »I shall look in now and then, of course; there'll be a clerk, like at the
old place.«
    He talked of the matter in detail - of the doctors who would attend, and of
certain new arrangements to be tried.
    »Have you engaged the clerk?« Reardon asked.
    »Not yet. I think I know a man who'll suit me, though.«
    »You wouldn't be disposed to give me the chance?«
    Reardon spoke huskily, and ended with a broken laugh.
    »You're rather above my figure nowadays, old man!« exclaimed Carter, joining
in what he considered the jest.
    »Shall you pay a pound a week?«
    »Twenty-five shillings. It'll have to be a man who can be trusted to take
money from the paying patients.«
    »Well, I am serious. Will you give me the place?«
    Carter gazed at him, and checked another laugh.
    »What the deuce do you mean?«
    »The fact is,« Reardon replied, »I want variety of occupation. I can't stick
at writing for more than a month or two at a
